Tuesday, December 30, 2008

I am not a big fan of New Years. I never really have been. One year I went to a rockin party and had an absolute blast. That was my favorite New Years ever!

I was eight years old though.

Truly, I'm not a fan of going out with the crazies, getting sloshed or the oh so lovely: see how many women are sobbing in the bathroom because they have no one to kiss at midnight.

The thing I like least about New Years is the resolutions. The lists that people make of things they intend to be better about in the New Year. The reason I despise this practice is simple: People never stick to their resolutions and then about mid-February everyone feels bad about themselves and gives up. Basically making resolutions is just another excuse for us all to fell bad about ourselves. I am good enough at feeling guilty, I don't need to make a resolution to do so in a month or two.

Instead, I'm going to make my best of 2008 list. My favorite post, one (or three, whatever) for each month I've been blogging.

ISSA'S Favorites of 2008:

July: Things not to say to a pregnant woman. That's a decaf latte, right? Actually bitch it's not. I just heard this in Starbucks. Literally half an hour ago. Like it's any ones business. Today I decided that I can't do decaf anymore. I'm just not sleeping and I needs me some caffeine. So real coffee here I am, I've missed you.

August: The cracked ceiling. My babies are six and a half and four years old. One wants to be a Supreme Court Judge and the other a Transformer. Funny, yes, but dream big is what I tell them.

Last night Hillary Clinton made history; she changed history for the better and I thank her for it. I want a better world for my children, a world that is safe and free, a world where there is no limit to what they can be.

September:Happy birthday Babe.On this day, every year, for as long as we've been together, I send my mother in law a gift. I call her and thank her for giving me the greatest gift in the world, for giving me her son. Because she raised one of the best men I know and she deserves to be told what an amazing job she did.

Bittersweet Victory.Today is a happy day for the US. I am happy, I truly am. But there's a bitterness there too. An angry piece of me, that has no outlet. I just want to shake the world right now and say, these two belong together, how can you not see that?

Long lost parenting tips.I did the only thing I could think of, I pulled her into the bathroom and made her open her mouth and I shoved a small stick of soap in there.

December:

For my favorite posts of this month, I'm going to pick two of mine and one of someone else's. One of mine is from this month and one from August I believe. They are both about ADHD and how it affects our family. I think more people need to see the face of ADHD. To know the realities and see the truth behind some of the behaviors.

"Because he is exceptional. And perhaps his ADHD makes him more so. He is incredibly creative, always coming up with inventions or plans to make life easier. He will sit and read for hours at a time. His writing and vocabulary blow me out of the water. I sometimes struggle to follow his thought processes, but I know now that it's not because they are wrong, but because they are different."

I have this feeling that Aaron and Morgan would get along really well.

Reality.The reality is that the world sees my child as a pain in the ass. Not all people, not people who know her, not even people who have been around a child with ADHD and know the signs. But to the majority of people.

Medicate or not, this is the question You know that saying, when she's good she's very, very good? Well that was Morgan. On her good moments, she was a doll; sweet, caring, loving and creative. On her bad moments, the Tasmanian devil on crack. Trouble was, we never knew what we were going to get. Unpredictable to the core. You could look at her wrong and she'd melt into a puddle of tears; tell her to put her shoe on and she'd throw a two hour tantrum; she was out of control. This was the first time we considered medicating her.

This month has been a hard month for me. I lost my grandmother, which only made me realize that I've not really grieved for my grandfather. The reality of these losses is just beginning to sink in. 2008 has been a long year. There have been great things, the most notable in my family being Harrison. I can not even begin to tell you how thankful I am for this little boy. My little boy. I could say it all day, every day, but it wouldn't be enough. I adore every single piece of his rolly polly little self.

But there's been a lot of grief as well. This year we lost three people in our family, my grandparents and Logan's grandma. We also have family that is struggling to make it. One with liver cancer, one with breast cancer and one with a bum heart. We're trying to think positively, but there may be some losses next year as well.

One of the things that I am thankful for the most for this year, is all of you. You have supported me and helped me, more than you could ever know. I appreciate each and every one of you.

I hope you all have a great New Years Eve. I'll talk to you next year.

Monday, December 29, 2008

I can't believe the week of Christmas is over. I feel like I've been in some sort of a bubble for the last week. Time slowed down or something. Not in a bad way, like the end weeks of pregnancy or the wait for bad news; it just slowed down. I think is what happens when you spend a week mostly in your house. We had like nine zilliona millionhundreds twelve people over for a few days. But trust me, there were moments when it seemed like more. For instance when one wanted a hot shower, or a moment of quiet. I considered taking my laptop into my closet for awhile, but I didn't. One thing I've learned this year is that hiding out isn't worth it. It's nice in the moment, but it causes issues and I'm done with causing issues for no good reason.

So basically I've ignored the world for the last week. I have...well a lot of posts in my reader, a bunch of emails to respond too and I haven't even looked at Twitter in days.

In short, because I'm too tired to write much today, here are the highlights of my past week:

-I played my best Wii golf game ever. I golfed a +1 yesterday, which is great since my best score previously was a +12. I have no idea if it's good or not, but it seemed like an improvement. The Wii by the way, greatest invention in the past five years, hands down.

-I woke up on Friday to my brother sleeping on the kitchen floor with the dog. He had his clothes and shoes on and was using his coat as a blanket. I guess after he'd come home from a friends house, couldn't remember where he was sleeping and there seemed to be people on every surface, so he forced the dog to sleep with him, for warmth. Yes, I do have it on camera.

-On Christmas the dog jumped at the table. There was a roast, some ham, a bunch of other things. She went for the stick of butter. My dog is a butter eater. I guess that is what smelled the best too her.

-Logan got his snowboard, I got a new wallet I wanted, Harrison got a wooden rocking horse and the girls got roller blades and guitars for Christmas. But I also got tickets to BlogHer09 which makes me so happy. Anyone want to share a room?

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Every morning until the last few months of her life (when she never left it any more), my grandma made her bed as soon as she had showered. Military corners on the sheets, perfectly straightened bedspread, pillows perfectly fluffed. It was her thing, one of many things that I as a child, thought made her a little weird. I mean really, who makes their bed if company isn't coming over? Certainly not me.

She had this deal, where you don't mess up a bed that has been made. You don't put anything on it, you don't mess with it and you definitely don't sit or lounge on it. That is what couches were made for, she told me once. I think I was about seven years old the first time I remember being told this.

I'll let you process that for a second. She told a seven year old child that beds were not for lounging or touching. They must not be messed up all day long.

In my house, our beds were the exact opposite. I was, at the time, being raised by a single mother. A mother whose bed was the fold out couch in our living room. We lived in a one bedroom apartment, where my brothers were sharing a full size bed and I had a twin bed. Both beds barely fit in the one room. So basically, our whole bedroom was one big bed. All we did was play on it and under it. We ate breakfast every day while laying in my mom's bed and watching cartoons. Some days, she never even made it back into a couch. We just all laid around on her bed. We liked it this way.

But back to my grandma. I remember looking at her like she was from outer space. There was no way that she was serious. Oh but she was.

I did what any seven year old child would do. I waited until she was out of the room for awhile and I sat my little seven year old butt on her bed. Then I snuck off, laughing too myself. A few hours later I remembered what I had done and went to go see. The bed was perfectly made, not a crease could be seen. This time I jumped into the middle, rolled around and then ran off, giggling too myself. When I went back later, it looked like I had never touched a thing. Not a wrinkle in sight. Well I wasn't a dumb kid and you didn't really cross my grandparents, so I decided I'd had enough fun for the day. I'd gotten away with it and that was enough. We left the next day and before we did I couldn't resist going in there and rolling around on her bed one more time. This time I left a note. Bye grandma, I had fun. Love, me.

Every time we went to visit, I did this. Generally only once and not usually on the first day, but every single time. Probably until I had kids myself. Maybe even once or twice after that as well. Although by then, we generally stayed in a hotel when we came to visit. She never said a word. I thought she'd go to her grave not saying a thing. But last year, when we were there for Thanksgiving, she called too me as I got up and went to the bathroom. Melissa Annie, she said too me, if you sit on my bed, you will have to remake it. I am too old to make it more than once a day. Grandma, I said as I came over and kissed her cheek, I am too old to mess up your bed on purpose, I promise. Everyone in the room thought we were insane, so she told them the story. I was shocked, but she'd never even told my grandpa. She just thought it was our little inside joke.

I will say, I don't make my bed unless someone is coming over and even then, I'm likely to just shut the door. When I do though, I don't like it too be sat on all day. Of course, when you only actually make your bed once a month, it's much easier to keep people off of it.

Monday, December 22, 2008

I am emotionally spent today. I have nothing in me to give. I need a three day nap. This being the week of Christmas, I doubt I'm going to get it. I'm sure I'll have more to say tomorrow, but for now I leave you with this:

Bailey: Mommy, wasn't that a good movie?

Me: Um sure it was.

Morgan: She slept all the way through it Bay.

Bailey: Mommy, you didn't? I can't believe you did that. It was the bestest movie in the world.

Me: Oh yeah? So did the mouse save the day?

Bailey: He did, he's the greatest mouse in the whole widest world. Mommy, we need a mouse. One who has big ole ears and can talk.

So I hear the mouse and rat making soup movie was great. Everyone should see it. At least according to my kids. It's also a great one too sleep through. Although in my defense, we went yesterday afternoon and I slept about three hours on Friday night and maybe four on Saturday night.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Grandpa had been rushed to the hospital during Thanksgiving dinner, we thought he'd had a stroke. My mom and uncle had made the decision that Grandma had to stay home. That with the cancer, her immune system couldn't handle a trip to the hospital. My mom went with Grandpa in the ambulance and my step-dad, uncle and aunt followed in the car. Logan took the girls back to the hotel to swim and my brother and I sat with Grandma.

She paced for the first 20 minutes, talked on the phone for the following 40 minutes and then argued with...I think the wall for a few more minutes. She then looked at me and Justin (my bro) and said, this waiting just doesn't work for me. We'll sneak you in I said. Mom and Jim won't know until you are in the room. Then what will they do? Kill me maybe, but they won't make you go home.

We drove to the hospital, found a parking spot and walked into the lobby. Grabbed Grandma a wheelchair and a mask and we were good to go. They'd already moved him into a real room on the intensive care floor, so we were given, basically a treasure map to try and find him.

I've always despised this hospital, Grandma said. We always get lost. Whoever made it, didn't like people much. Newer hospitals are not set up like this. Did you know your mother was born here? Yeah, she was almost born in the hallway, because we couldn't figure out where we were supposed to go.

Justin stopped at this point and asked me to push Grandma. Why, what are you doing, I asked? He took the pink map and started tearing off teeny pieces. Then as we walked, he dropped a piece every so often. At some point Grandma noticed what he was doing. Why in the world are you littering, she asked him. Breadcrumbs Grandma, I'm leaving us breadcrumbs, so we can find our way out. I don't want to live here, you know?

Breadcrumbs? Like Hansel and Gretal she said. Then, she laughed and we laughed. It was possibly the funniest thing in the world. At that moment, laughing at breadcrumbs made us not sad. At that moment, my brother was the funniest man in the entire world. We laughed as we made our way through the entire hospital. We continued laughing until we found Grandpas room. Breadcrumbs.

Saturday afternoon, December 20, 2008:

The service was held graveside, it was the only way to get it done this weekend. It was cold and windy and really sad. But it was beautiful as well. The flowers were gorgeous, the service was short and sweet. There were a ton of people there. We buried her how she wanted it done. We placed her in her spot, where she wanted to be. Beside her husband, the love of her life. Right next to her parents, as she was their only child. She had a great send off.

As we were walking away, my brother asked me if he thought they check the body before they bury it. Check it for what, bombs? No he said, just check her again? You know, make sure nothing was placed in her coffin? OK, what did you do, I asked? At the funereal home, before we came out here, I went in and said good-bye to her. I also stuck three bright orange post-its in her pocket of her pants. I told her to leave me breadcrumbs and one day, I'll be able to find her.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But I thought of her and of that day. I thought about her laughter that day and I just burst out laughing. I doubt they checked her, I'm sure at that point what gets put in her coffin is between us and her.

We got in the limo with our parents and a few aunts and our uncle and we just laughed and laughed. We had to explain it too them, but they all though it was funny. We laughed all the way to my uncles house.

Breadcrumbs.

PS. I'm going to spend the next few days telling you shorter stories about my Grandmother. I am too tired and I have too much too do to write about her for hours, even though that's what I want to do. But this week is Christmas and I'm going to have a houseful of people so I have to get this house ready. Gone for one day, one freaking day and my house looks like it was hit by a hurricane.

Plus, I'm sure all of you have much better things to do than read my long-winded ramblings.

Friday, December 19, 2008

I'm having trouble with this loss. Losing her just hurts. One more on top of so many this past couple of years. You'd think it'd get easier, but it doesn't. Just harder. It just hurts.

Three and a half years of knowing that this could be the last visit, the last phone call, the last I love you. Somehow you are still never prepared. I know she's someplace better. This, I know I believe in. I know she's with him; the love of her life. I know she was in horrible pain. Doesn't make it hurt any less. Doesn't make me not want to fold into myself; lie in bed for days, weeks even; alone with my head.

They're gonna have the service tomorrow afternoon. Try and make it as painless as possible, so people can get home for Christmas. Christmas, I don't even want to think about Christmas anymore. If it were up to me, I'd take it all down and pretend it didn't exist. I can't and I won't. I do want to. How do you find the holiday spirit when your spirit feels beaten and broken? When your heart has been shattered into so many pieces that no one can find all of them.

I can't handle much more drama and pain. I don't know what I'll do if one more thing goes wrong, one more person I love, gone.

As a child of divorce, the holidays were never the amazingly fun experience that my children have. It was filled with hard feelings and worry about the other parent. It was each of them, in their own way, trying to out do each other. It was filled with, whose turn is it, you had them last year, like we were shoes or a kite and not small children. The years we went to Grandma and Grandpa's house with my mom, those were my favorite Christmas's. Christmas to me, it was best with them. They always did it at their house. Any child was welcome, along with their family, even their in-laws if they wanted. But they never, ever, didn't do it at their house. They had a massive tree, tons of treats and gifts. Christmas Eve we walked through the college and ooohed and awed at the lights. Dinner was at 2pm and gifts were opened after. It was the same, it was tradition. I am trying my best to do that with my kids. Make traditions for them, lasting good memories. For Christmas to be about our family, no matter what everyone else thinks. But Christmas is not Christmas without them. They were the rocks of this family. Now they are both gone. Three months and a week apart.

Yesterday would have been my grandfathers birthday. But he's been gone over three months. I'm not over this one yet. I haven't gotten to the point where I don't cry when he is mentioned; where I don't smell a man with his aftershave and a hint of listerine and it not make me weak with grief. I don't hear a song that reminded him of me and not break down, no matter where I am. It's hard to look at his pictures, to think about the places we were when they were taken. I didn't name Harrison after my grandpa, because I wasn't to the point that I thought I could say his name all the time. I wanted too, but I just couldn't. I pray that one day, when I'm ready, I get the chance too have another boy and name him after him. I'm just not ready to go through this again. I don't know how to lose people gracefully. How do you say good-bye for good?

I'm sinking. I feel it. I've eaten all day, but I can't tell you what any of it was. I haven't been hungry. I was angry at stupid stuff earlier, because it was easier to be angry than too feel. Now, I could care less about plane tickets, spilled ice tea or anything else so trivial. I am feeling the loss and it's eating me up inside. I have to get up at 3am to go to the airport. Fly two hours, drive three hours, go to a funeral and then turn around and do the same thing on Sunday to get home. I'm not taking the kids. Logan thinks it will be too hard on them, too much for me. He's right, I'm sure. I wish he was going. I need him, my babies. Mostly right now, I need him. He knows and it's killing him too. But our kids need him too. They are grieving too and they need one of us here. We have people. People who offered to keep them, the dog, stay here even. But I'm going alone.

I should sleep. But I just can't. I can't go to sleep. If I go to bed, I won't get up and go at 3am tomorrow. If I go to bed, I will stay there. Maybe in a few days, when I get home, I'll feel different. But this is how I feel right now. I feel like if I go and lay down, I won't make myself go and say good-bye, because I don't want to say good-bye. No matter what though, she's gone and she's not coming back. I'll never forgive myself if I don't go. Put flowers on her grave and his too, say good-bye.

I am sad. This week has put me through the ringer.

Ok, I'm going to bed now. My husband swears he's making me get up in oh 4ish hours or so. He says to trust him and I do. More than anyone in this world, I do trust him. He's my person. I'll be better in a few days, I will. For my kids, for my grandparents who would want me to snap the heck out of it. In a few days I'll come back and tell you how amazing my grandmother was.

For now, I'm just gonna be sad. I'm trying so hard not to sink. My head is just above the water. But I can swim.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Hey everyone, today is the Bloggy Holiday Card Exchange that Meghan over at AMomTwoBoys came up with. I love mailing out Christmas cards...even though this year I've been a bit slow about it. Basically, this is a way to send you all cards, without having to beg you for your addresses. Meghan said it better, so I thought I'd borrow steal her words. She's way more eloquent than I am anyway.

"If you’re like me, you send your Holiday cards to all the people in your life who mean something special (and maybe a few who you feel obligated to send one to!). If you’re also like me, your Internet friends would definitely be counted among the first group. Except they’re Internet friends, so you don’t necessarily have their mailing address, or even their real name, and sending out an extra hundred cards would make life difficult. THIS is the next best thing. It gives us an opportunity to share a bit of our real lives with people who make up some of our best friends. And it also gives us a chance to say “Thank You” for being such amazing friends."

There is still time to join in. Even if you just have a picture, you can make the card for free at Picnik, which is what I did. Our cards, the actual ones we made were too light and didn't scan in well. Plus it had the kids real names on it.

I just want to thank you all for being such amazing friends. Like Meghan said, some of you are my best friends, even though we've never met each other. I appreciate all of you for you kind words and encouragement over the last six months, but especially in the last few days. It's hard to come up with the words to adequately thank you. But, thank you.

I know some of you are not going to be around much the next few weeks. I'm not sure how much I will be either. Just in case we miss each other, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all of you.

Love, Issa

ps. you have no idea how hard it was to get these very few shots of the kids. Seriously, they owe me a great nursing home as an old person for this one.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

When you look at her what do you see? Do you see her inner beauty? Her outer beauty? Do you see the little girl who gave away her gloves, scarf and hat to a friend who needed them? Do you see the independent spirit that believes she can rule the world? Change the world? Make the world a better place? Do you see the creativity that pores out of her all the time? Do you see the little mother in her who loves to sing her baby brother to sleep? The girl who spends hours trying to get her little sister to ride without training wheels? The girl who walks her dog around the backyard on a leash, because she can't handle the brute on the street? Do you see the athletic side of her, the side who can pick-up and play any sport? Did you notice the way she reads aloud? Like a twelve year old, instead of a just turned seven year old child? The way she does math in her head? The logical way she figures things out?

If you don't know her, you probably don't.

You notice the bouncing and the twirling. You possibly notice the incessant chatter. Maybe you notice how she interrupts people mid sentence, saying, I know and then moving onto the next thing. Her inability to finish a whole thought or story. You notice her inability to sit down for a whole meal. You might notice the tantrums, which are more prevalent in places like Chuck E' Cheese, Disneyland, holiday parties and crowded soccer games. They can happen any place really, where she has been over stimulated to the max. Maybe you've noticed the tapping of the pen, the clicking of the jaw, the twirling of her hair, the constant movement of her hands and feet, which at some point has either bugged you to no end or made you think she is doing it to piss you off.

Maybe you think it is lack of parenting on our parts. If we were harder on her, more consistent, more demanding, less demanding. More.

This is the face of ADHD. This is the reality of ADHD. Last week, we put Morgan on Adderall. We spent years and years going back and forth on medicating her. A hyperactive four year old is easier to ignore. I currently have a very active four year old. There are subtle differences in her behavior and Morgan's at that age. But to an outsider, a person in a store, a teacher, a relative; it can be harder to see. I know the difference, we point it out to each other all the time. but we are their parents. We've done many types of therapy: talk, play, art. We've done relaxation techniques with her since she was two years old. She can do them now herself and does, throughout her day. To make it through her day. Let me say that again, my child does relaxation techniques on herself, to get through her day.

We have tried vitamins, a non-sugar diet and Homeopathy. We taught her techniques to deal with her energy in times where she had to sit still. She jumps on our trampoline for almost two hours a day, just too work off the extra energy. A four year old who sits to color, but taps her fingers and moves her feet, is an accepted child. A seven year old who does it, is seen as a trouble maker, someone searching out attention, a child being a pain in the ass.

The reality is that the world sees my child as a pain in the ass. Not all people, not people who know her, not even people who have been around a child with ADHD and know the signs. But to the majority of people. People sigh when she asks too many questions, some people roll their eyes at her. She's had a few substitute teachers lately who have been down right horrible. And she knows it, she feels it all and it hurts her. Deep, where a kiss and a hug, or a few band-aids won't help. It is changing who she is. Making her second guess herself, but at the same time, she's already doing everything possible to stop it. So much so, that it's created a few ticks in the last few weeks. Ticks from trying to suppress the urge to jump and bounce in place. That energy then comes out in different ways.

There is a stigma as a parent, that comes from medicating your child. It is seen as the easy way out. That we couldn't hack it, couldn't deal with it, didn't know how to deal with her. This is a cop out. Not a cop out on me, but a cop out on the people who say it. Every child with ADHD is different, just as every child is different. Maybe all the other things worked with your child. For this I am thrilled for you, but for me, for her, it didn't work.

Truly, we didn't medicate Morgan for us. We can handle her, we can deal with her. We're used to the symptoms, the different ways of parenting, the ADHD. For us, it's not a huge deal. The ADHD isn't her, it's a small portion of who she is. Just like I am partially blind in one eye and my husband is dyslexic. A part of us we can't give back, a part of us we had to learn to life with. But it doesn't define us and we don't want ADHD to define her.

Don't get me wrong, it has been a long time to get to this point. If I was going to medicate her for me, I'd have done it 3 years ago. Logan would have done it 5 years ago. We didn't put her on Adderall for us, we did it for her. I can't have my child trying to suppress who she is, not now, not ever.

Let me repeat it, we put her on medication for her. Because she is our daughter, our first born, one of the three lights of our life. We want the world to see what we see. The little girl from the first paragraph. The loving, caring, giving, creative, independent child who is currently lying underneath my Christmas tree with her footed Jammie feet sticking out; singing I'll be home for Christmas to her sister. Our daughter. Our Morgan. This is why we put her on Adderall. For her.

So to you lovely asshat who made the accusations in my earlier post, that I am poisoning my child; I hope you can see the facts. Saying that there are other ways to deal with ADHD and meds are poison is a generalization. A gross generalization to make me feel bad about my choice. Your way works better, I am the one poisoning my child, this is simply not true. Life is not so black and white, it's more of a lovely shade of gray.

Like my friend Kim said in the comments, some see giving antibiotics as a horrible thing, others see not doing it as a horrible thing. Please don't go around flinging bags of flaming poo at people without the facts. Try and remember, your way isn't the only way. My child isn't your child. Mine needed to try this. For her self esteem and security in who she is, more than anything else. At first I was so angry and now I'm just sad. Sad that people can be so close minded when it comes to life. Sad that people can't see that my way can be just great, if it works for me, but your way might be great too. Sad that my baby has to go through this. Sad that anyone would look at her and not see how amazing she is.

Do you every find yourself watching commercials and thinking to yourself, man I could really use a ShamWow? Yeah, me neither.

My Christmas tree doesn't smell like a Christmas tree. Isn't that the whole point of having a live tree? I got jipped.

I am not a cold weather person. I have been cold for five days straight. I could never live in Alaska or Canada or those places where it is cold all dang year.

My friend Mo, over at One Ping Only is doing a big holiday giveaway. Basically for each comment she gets, she is giving a dollar to a great charity. Please go over HERE and let her know you stopped by. There is also a chance to win a Starbucks gift card.

Morgan has been on Adderall for a week now. I'm noticing less bouncing, more concentration and the ability to finish a thought. Side effect wise, she's a bit more emotional. We'll see.

Logan and I are going to have a date night this weekend. We need movie ideas. Neither of us know what has been out, in say the last ten months. Any ideas? Please don't say Twilight.

Thursday is the great Bloggy holiday card exchange of 2008. Want more info? Go visit Meghan and get all the details. Basically a bunch of us will be posting our holiday cards on the same day. Easier and cheaper than trying to send them to each other. Everyone is welcome.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Morgan: Mommy, I've figured it out, I know what I'm gonna be when I get big. Wanna know what it is?

Me: Ok, I'll play, what?

Morgan: A pro snowboarder.

Me: Of course, I should have known. What about being a Supreme Court Judge?

Morgan: Oh I'll still do that too. After I'm a pro snowboarder.

Me: After, huh? Ok then, good to know.

Morgan: Yep, I'll do that when I'm old. Like maybe 25.Picture is something I stole off of Google. Seriously, you think I'd go out in this to take pictures? Heck no, it's in the negatives in temperature and it sure as shit isn't sunny.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Last night, sleeping was just not going to happen in my house. I had a few nightmares about crazy serial killers. I really shouldn't watch CSI before I go to bed. Did you see that? Freak man got in my head. It was not a good thing. Morgan I think has an ear infection, possibly a sinus infection. She woke up three times to tell me that her ear still hurt. I get it, I do, but there is nothing I didn't understand about it the first time she woke me up. (As an aside here, when kids just stand there all crazy and don't speak at 1am, don't they freak you out too?) Bailey has night terrors. We dealt with this before with Morgan, but she was about two when it was happening. Bailey's come and go, but still a thrashing screaming four year old is never a fun thing. At 2am, it's even worse. Harrison is teething. Oh the joys. Some nights he sleeps like a tiny angel, others he's up every hour or so. Lets just say, no one slept well in our house last night.

It has been brought to my attention that we are supposed to have a real blizzard this weekend. We're supposed to get like ten feetOK five feet alright at least a foot of snow on Saturday night. We're heading up into the mountains this weekend to take advantage of the fresh snow. I say this, knowing that I truly don't care about the snow. My husband and kids do though. I'm taking Morgan to the doctor today, because if she's got an ear infection, I want to be prepared with drops and antibiotics just in case. Because she'll lie and say she's fine, just to get to snowboard and then we'll have to deal with some strange illness that it will become. Like Bubonic Plague. Gotta love kids. Anyway, I'll be hanging out, reading books, drinking hot chocolate and chillin with my baby in front of the fire all weekend. You know, it's actually not sounding so bad after all.

Yesterday, I was accepted by BlogHer ads. So in a few days, I'll have some ads on my side bar. I am very excited about it. Makes me feel like a real grown up blogger.

I love Google searches. I love seeing how people find my site. I get some real weird ones sometimes. Here's a few for your enjoyment:

Random Wedding Facts (Weddings are expensive and crazy. Please elope. especially if you want me to be a bridesmaid. That's my fact for you.)

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Why someone will have their hand down their pocket, scratching, in public. Like in an elevator. Then they stop for a second, only to start up scratching again. Dude, that is what bathrooms were invented for.

People who look around, before picking their nose in traffic. If it is daytime and you are picking your nose in your car...someone is watching.

Men who make comments about why breastfeeding is so simple and they don't understand a woman who wouldn't do it. Ok, then, you try it. Asshat.

Why anyone would look at a newborn and say, oh what a pretty girl? When the BOY in question was wearing a dark blue onesie that says baby brother on it. If you don't know, don't just assume. I'd way rather someone say, oh what a cute baby, then try to guess.

Why a group will come out with new songs; put them on a "greatest hits" CD and then not let you just purchase those three freaking songs. No, you must purchase the CD full of songs that you already own for three little songs. Egotistical much?

Why I bother to pay for professional photos of my children, when they come out looking all weird. Why it is that my sweet little daughter thinks a camera is going to steal her soul. Why my son can be happy all day, but put him in front of a camera and he gets all grouchy and starts crying, like I told him he was being returned to sender. Why my oldest suddenly believes she is on the cover of some fashion magazine? Is one good photo at Christmas too much too ask? My house is filled with photos of the kids. Almost none of the ones that are up, were professionally taken.

Any of you have something you just don't understand? I'm full of them these days.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

1. I am in a lurking mood today. I am in a read from my reader kind of mood today. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll be back to stalking all of you tomorrow.

2. I have decided that birth announcement cards for a third child, are highly overrated. There is just about no way that I'm going to get this done. I mean really, the boy is already two and a half months old. Maybe I'll send them out for his first birthday. I had Christmas pictures done last week and that was torture enough.

3. Yesterday was not a blizzard. I lost. I have already purchased said snowboard and hidden it. (He doesn't read my site, unless I read it too him, so I'm safe.) Thanks to all of you who were on my side.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Issa:There is snow.It doesn't melt when it hits the ground.Any snow accumulation over say three inches.It looks all snowy and cold and icy from my window.They spray the streets with some sort of no-stick stuff, but you still slide around.It takes me an extra twenty minutes to get the girls to school to Starbucks in the morning.I have to wear gloves and a hat.

Logan:Last night there was not a blizzard.You can't see because the snow is blowing so hard.More than a foot of snow.If you leave your house you can die.We haven't had a blizzard yet this year.In a REAL blizzard, school will be closed.8 inches of snow does not mean it is a blizzard.A blizzard is where snow and wind and something about temps begin low and blah, blah, blah. I am wrong and my wife is right. (I might have paraphrased this last one.)

Here's the thing, I am from Los Angeles. I was raised in West LA. My dad started teaching me how to surf at 4 years old. The beach was my playground. I only owned flip-flops and dress up shoes until I went to school and then was occasionally forced to wear real shoes. Every time I talk to someone and I tell them there is a blizzard, Logan has a fit at me. It's not a blizzard, it's barely snowing, he says. To me, the chick who saw snow maybe three times before I was ten years old; any amount of snow, seems like a blizzard. So we go back and forth on it. In the end we decided that he's a loser we just have to disagree on this one. He ignores me telling people that it's a blizzard and I ignore him teaching our kids about snow. I guess now that we live here, they should know about snow. Love the snow even. Me, I'll stay all nice and toasty in my house and ignore the blizzard.

UPDATE: It's on now. Logan has issued a public plee (through me, since lame boy can't type) to win. If you all think he is right, I have to buy him some new snowboard he wants. If I win, I get to go too BlogHer09 without listening to him whine about how hard four days with the kids will be. (Either way, I think I'm going, I asked Santa for the ticket, it's just how annoying he's gonna be about it.)

What do you think?

ISSA: 5 points

LOGAN: 12 points (including Mr. Big Dubya who just told me something on Twitter about 10 feet of snow and walking both ways to school uphill with no shoes. Or he said that I'm a bit mistaken. Whichever.) Also including my freaking parents and his parents. My mom is so not getting a gift now. :)

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Seven years ago today a little baby girl was born. Seven years ago today, I was given the greatest gift and the hardest job in the world, all rolled up like a little burrito. All six pounds and four ounces of hope, in my tiny baby girl. Seven years ago today, I became a mother.

I am a huge game lover. I have always love a night filled with drunken versions of Life and Pictionary and Clue. Really, you haven't lived until you've tried to make a drinking game out of Dominoes.

Oh wait, I don't think this was what I planned on talking about. I digress.

As a kid, we had a closet full of games. Playing board games was something that we did on a regular basis. We had normal games and then all these weird ones. Like Songburst 70's & 80's edition, have you ever seen that one? You have to be able to sing the end of a song. My step-mom loved that game, because she always won.

I'll tell you something funny. I never knew a Monopoly game could last for hours. In our house the game always ended, every single time, when my brother Adam overturned the board. When I was fifteen and played it on a school trip, I was shocked that the game could go on forever. Who knew? I mean really, didn't everyone have a family member who would get so flustered with the counting of money that they'd overturn the board? I'd never played Monopoly longer than fifty minutes in my entire childhood.

The only game I ever cheated on as a kid was Monopoly. No correlation between that and Adam being a sore loser. I'm pretty sure, anyway. I just heard that the makers of Monopoly are taking away the money and using credit cards. I swear, that version will never make its way into my game closet. My kids will always have to play with the real money. Every kid should have to learn how to cheat on Monopoly properly.

We've always been big on games around here. We, just as both of our families did, have a closet full of games. Some the kids can play by themselves, some we play as a family and some we play when we get together with friends. In the last year though, we've moved past the Hi Ho Cheerio and Candyland sort of games with the girls. Which is a relief really, because there is only so much Chutes and Ladders and Candyland one person can play in their lifetime. We've moved onto the Junior versions of all my favorite games. Outburst Jr. being the favorite of the moment. Sometimes we even play the regular version in teams. Either way, games are a big part of our family.

Which is really why I've written this post.

The Parentbloggers are doing a little giveaway with EA games. A big giveaway actually; Wii games, in fact. Our whole family is a big fan of the Wii. I bought it for Logan last year for Christmas and it hasn't worn out it's welcome yet. Where as the babies in this house rarely get played with anymore, the Littlest Pet shop death traps are pretty ignored and the Play-doh has all dried out; the Wii has not gotten old. If any of you want to enter to win, go check it out HERE. I think you have until Sunday to enter.

PS. Morgan's seventh birthday is tomorrow, so I'll be posting at some point tomorrow as well.

Friday, December 5, 2008

Today I came here and I vented about something that happened last night. I spewed. It was nasty and vicious and I can't leave it up. It may be in your readers, for this I am sorry.

Needless to say, for those who missed it (and I truly hope most of you did) Harrison and I slipped on the ice last night and he has four stitches over his eyebrow. He's fine and he'll have a great battle wound story to tell, once he, you know...learns to talk. His story will unfortunately not end with and then I got to eat chocolate chip pancakes at IHOP, like the girls story does.

Now, I have brownies to bake and a strawberry cake recipe to find, since Sunday is Morgan's birthday. Of course it has to be strawberry, because strawberry's are best in December. Everyone knows that. :) Tomorrow we're getting a tree and Sunday is the big ole party...we're doing a little cosmic bowling.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Me: Yeah, you do. I bought you a new set four days ago. The ones that match your coat. The ones you wore to school yesterday.

Morgan: Oh those. Well, I don't have them anymore.

Me: Did you leave them in your locker or in Auntie Kate's car yesterday?

Morgan: No, I just don't have them anymore.

Me: Morgan I am not in a playing mood today. Where exactly are your gloves, hat and scarf? Truth, NOW.

Morgan: I gave them to Lilian. But mommy, she didn't have any and her fingers were icicles and I asked her where her stuffs was and she said her mom didn't have money to buy her any. So I gave her mine.

Me: Oh I. You. I'm proud....

Morgan: Mama, you can buy me new ones right? You aren't mad?

Me: No baby, I'm not mad. I'll pick you up some new ones today. Honey, does Lilian have a coat?

Morgan: Yeah, she does. It's big, but cozy.

Me: Ok good. You did the right thing and I'm very proud of you. That's a sweet thing of you to do for your friend. But truth next time, okay?

Morgan: Yep, I promise.

My baby is growing up people. It makes me sad, but very proud of the person she is becoming. I thought six was the best age in the world. For her it has been. But seven seems to be pretty dam great too. Now excuse me while I go and call my entire family and tell them how awesome my kid is.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Remember me? I was the one singing Van Morrison (quietly I might add) to my newborn son in the airport on Sunday. You must remember me. I was the one you were looking at like I was insane. Oh you remember now. Yeah that figures. You said to your friend/relative and I quote "That's not appropriate to sing to a baby." Really? Because lullabies are so f'ing great? Let's ignore your rudeness and bitchiness for just a second and talk about lullabies. The oh so appropriate lullabies people should, in your mind, be singing to their newborns.

Bah Bah Black Sheep....lets just sing about stealing from an innocent sheep. Plus, this is 2008. I live in a major metropolitan city. Sheep are something my son is likely to see three times in his childhood and always in a zoo. I doubt any of them will be black sheep. Plus, my son has no master and the boy in the song gets no wool. Why in the hell would I want to sing my son this screwed up song?

Ring around the rosie: Pocket full of posies, ashes ashes we all fall down. Oh yes, lets sing about the freaking plague. This is what I want Harrison to know about. Sweet dreams son.

Rock-a-bye Baby: Do we even need to discuss the baby in a tree song? Baby in a tree? Falling down, baby and all? Why don't we just call CPS and get it over with?

Babies don't care what we sing to them. They don't care if our voice creaks. They don't care if we make up words. Do you know that my daughter Morgan sings to Harrison all the time and he coos at her? When he's cranky and I'm trying to finish dinner or something, I send her to sing too him. She sings whatever song she has stuck in her head, the ABC's, or some silly made up song about Mama eating his cheeks. Last night she was singing her multiplication table to him. He just loved it. He could care less what it is, he just loves the way we sing to him.

Van Morrison, Days Like This? Is hands down a better song for my son to hear. I'd rather sing him anything besides kid music. You know why? Because my kids don't own that crap. They have never in their life owned a Raffi CD, or the Wiggles or even a Barney-Dora-Issa is poking her eyes out type of CD. Everyone who knows me, knows not to buy this stuff for my kids. I won't give it too them. I'd rather them sing the songs on the radio. I love that they know which Satellite radio station they want to listen too each time we get in the car. I'm rather proud of the variety of music my girls like. They request songs by artist and title. You haven't really lived until you've witnessed Bailey singing and dancing to Hey There Delilah by the Plain White T's. You should watch my kids when Pink's, So What, comes on in the car. They go nuts, they love it. They are not being harmed in any way by not having a Raffi CD.

There are so many things I could say too you. So many horribly mean things I could put out for the world to know about you. I am very observant. I've thought about it for three long days. However, I'm a nicer person than you. I may judge people I see, but it's always in my own head. I don't judge people out loud in a crowed airport for the whole world to hear. If this had happened last year, I'd have likely snapped your head off and fed it to a shark. Just count yourself warned. Not everyone would have continued singing to their son and then walked away.

My son, is not being harmed by me singing whatever song I have in my head too him as a lullaby. In fact, I think he is perfectly content with anything I sing to him.

Monday, December 1, 2008

"For those of us fond of snapping photos of our spawn, there is nothing more exciting/rewarding/feel-goody than capturing THE photo. You know what I'm talking about: the hard-to-come-by money shot."

The photos she posted are fabulous. The comments have all been more great shots of beautiful babies and kids. I thought I'd post a few of mine. Some of these are older, some brand new. All capture my kids, the way they truly are. As a little old woman, these photos, more than any professional shot I've had taken of them, will remind me of my children as small kids. It will remind me of that moment, each moment, where I caught them off guard, where I managed to show the real them on film.

Both of the girls have always been hard to photograph, although for different reasons. Morgan has been a poser since birth and Bailey has been a photo avoider since birth. But here are my money shots. Might not be great shots to anyone else, but too me, they are priceless.

This one is Morgan, she was two and a half. I was pregnant, maybe seven months, with Bailey. She was looking at giraffes at the zoo.

These two were taken off of a role that the photo lab ruined. I saved them anyway, because it's not like you can get back your child's first week of life. They've become some of my favorite shots of Bailey.

This is the very first photo of my babies girls together. Bay was maybe 11 hours old. Morgan was still convinced a little brother was going to appear out of nowhere any second.

Bailey at about two and a half months old. Funny, but Harrison looks so much like her in this picture. Except she had almost no hair. What little hair she did have was super blond. But the eyes, oy ve those eyes kill me.

I think these next two were taken the same week. Spring, 2006.

This one was on vacation that same summer. This my friends is EXACTLY what Morgan looked like at four years old. All attitude, all the time. Please notice the chopped up hair. I think this was the second time she did it and sadly the third and last time was way worse. In the undershirt she HAD to wear, just like her daddy. Her little belly all sticking out. She did that on purpose for years, we though it was the cutest thing. Then one day, she stopped.

Taken on a school field trip, early Fall, 2007. This was the first day I'd been out of the house, out of bed in about two months. I only went because she begged me too. That day, I changed. I decided to be better. To try harder. For her. To me, this is the most beautiful picture in the world.

These you have seen. I took the one of the girls a couple of weeks before Harrison was born. And my boy. These are my money shots of him. I look in his eyes and I see the world. I see the future, possibility, my heart.

Anyone want to join me? Let me know if you do and I'll like to you on this post. I'm all about adorable photos of kids.

I am loving the sound of silence this morning. Don't get me wrong, I completely enjoyed the sound of noise in my house. The constant chatter, the jokes, the laughter, even the tantrums by my four year old. Oh wait, I could have done without those. Either way though, it was a great holiday weekend.

Today is Monday. My house is empty; guests have all gone home, my husband went back to work and the girls are at school. I even dropped the dog off to get groomed. It's just me and my tiny sleeping son.

Silence. Oh how I love the silence.

I should clean my house, wrap the presents that I bought or work on my writing. Instead, I'm going to sit and enjoy the silence for a bit.